Array ( [sid] => 128961 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => stonehenge. [time] => 2006-12-02 23:59:35 [hometext] => Written December 5, 2005. I've been uninspired for nearly a year, and it's crushing... [bodytext] => Downtown, villa.
Red brick, snow-painted white.
Knurled, rough hewn. Cold-stone.
history. His story.
Repeating (history. His story.)
flows like glass, time-still.
Fading, like voices or memories or photographs,
But never this devotion.
Your smell still lingers on her fingertips; your taste on her tongue.
(You.) Your family, your past. Your history – it’s there.
It’s you. Never gone; perhaps forgotten, but always present.
Unsinkable, like ships of Styrofoam,
Flagstone and stock-still.
Whispered like fog on warm windowsills.
Gingerbread fills the air of your uptown citadel. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 165 [topic] => 2 [informant] => blackmarker [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 11 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LovePoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - stonehenge.


stonehenge.
Date: Saturday, 2nd December 2006 @ 11:59:35 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: blackmarker
Downtown, villa.
Red brick, snow-painted white.
Knurled, rough hewn. Cold-stone.
history. His story.
Repeating (history. His story.)
flows like glass, time-still.
Fading, like voices or memories or photographs,
But never this devotion.
Your smell still lingers on her fingertips; your taste on her tongue.
(You.) Your family, your past. Your history – it’s there.
It’s you. Never gone; perhaps forgotten, but always present.
Unsinkable, like ships of Styrofoam,
Flagstone and stock-still.
Whispered like fog on warm windowsills.
Gingerbread fills the air of your uptown citadel.

This poem is Copyright © blackmarker


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